


Necro Lotus

by SordidCupquake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Horror, Letter, Mental Health Issues, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SordidCupquake/pseuds/SordidCupquake
Summary: A psychologist by the name of Dr. Daniel Baumgartner contacts his old professor in the hopes of receiving advice and speaks of his time attending the funeral of an old patient.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Regarding the Death of Mr. Emery Gibbs

Dear Professor Windsor

  
I understand it has been quite the long while since we last spoke. I remember those days, the few before my university days were over. You seemed so eager to head back to your home in New York, which, while I could not greatly understand, I do hope this letter finds you well.  
In the years since I have gotten my license and have had many patients come through my door. But, none milder than the titular Emery Gibbs.

As I write this, his funeral was probably about a month ago. I did not know the man well, but his family insisted I come, and while I hold no ill will towards the now deceased Mr. Gibbs, I was reluctant, but did so anyway, thinking maybe the family had some questions. They did not.  
I arrived shortly after lunch. The funeral home was as dull as ever, even more so than I remember your old office being. Overcast skies which had me a bit on edge for rain, but fortunately, I was wrong.

I remember little about Mr. Gibbs. He was one of my first few patients. He would complain of nightmares, which seems to have steadily become illusions. Creatures he could not put into words which stalked him in the dark. At the time I thought of him as a simple case of schizophrenia. Though, a strange one as it appeared his family didn't exactly have a history of mental illness. Still. For a long time, I listened to him prattle on about these invisible beasts until one day his wife stopped scheduling appointments. I believe I called once or twice, as I was a little concerned. Schizophrenia isn't something that just clears up on its own. You need medications and things of that sort. I had presumed they may have run out of money and could no longer pay for the sessions, which would have been understandable. Mayhaps they found another psychologist they thought would do a better job. But, they never answered the phone.  
With no knowledge of what was going on and no perceivable way to gain any, I gave up.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I had heard of his death. It had been years, sure. But the cause was suicide. And the memories of our time being cut short came flooding back. Of course, then I was invited. Which felt a tad odd, and I am still unsure if it was unprofessional of me to have accepted.

Sure enough, it was a closed casket affair. I had learned from the priest that he had mangled himself, which I found very odd. Apparently, he was found with his legs and lower torso in ribbons. They had ruled it as suicide based purely on the fact he had been diagnosed as a schizophrenic. His family did not speak the whole time I was there. All was silent. Too well can I recollect the feeling of their eyes glued to me. The anger and hatred that must have burned within them, as if I were the culprit because I was never able to fix him before they gave up.  
I was rather ill at ease the whole time there, which wasn't very long. Maybe about an hour in, I had finally decided to make my way back to my office.

Now, I know what you might be thinking professor. Why would I be writing to you about such a macabre circumstance? That's the thing. About a week after his death, I had a new patient arrive. His name is Keith Bartram, and he was complaining of nightmares. After our first session, I decided to look back into the files I had written up about Mr. Gibbs. The nightmares Mr. Bartram was experiencing were almost word for word the nightmares Mr. Gibbs were having near the beginning of our first few sessions.

Professor. I am unsure what to do, or what's going on. If you would, please write back. Or better yet, return to Arkham.

Your student and colleague  
Doctor Daniel Baumgartner


	2. Regarding The Last Letter, Lost Notes, And New Information

Dear Professor Windsor  
  


I know you still haven't responded to my last letter, but so much has happened in these last few months. It's hard to keep everything sorted in my head, but I'll do my best so that you can better understand what's been happening.

First off, I seem to have misplaced much of my notes. The day after I sent you the last letter, I had found that the file I left the notes referenced in the last letter to be empty. I had not touched it since, but I suppose I could've just forgotten. I still have yet to find those notes, but I found something even better, which we'll get to. The notes I do still have on my person are so intensely close to my current patients. They're going through the exact same thing, which was almost unbelievable, seeing as both Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Bartram have no connection at all. They weren't friends, friends of friends, or related in any way. They had no clue either existed but yet here we are. It's intriguing, and I've been doing my best to squeeze Mr. Bartram of any information he can give me about what's going on. Every note I take is so close to another, yet somehow I feel like I'm getting closer to something.  
  
Second, I contacted as many of my old classmates as possible to ask them if any of their patients were experiencing the same thing. Out of the ones who got back to me, every single patient in the same situation is here in Arkham. Their names are Thomas Gladd, Allison Morse, and Kaitlyn Sharp. All of the notes taken for each, including Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Bartram, have been nearly exactly the same. Though I was the only one ever asked to come to the funeral, Mr. Gladd, Mr. Morse, and Mrs. Sharp are all deceased. All ruled as suicide. None of them knew each other. The only thing connecting them is Arkham. Which brings me to the third, and last thing.  
  
Professor. I believe something isn't right in Arkham. Is this why you left so quickly? Did you know there was something wrong? If you had any similar patients, please share your notes with me.  
  
I still feel like I'm getting close to something though. I have to keep digging Professor. I have to get to the bottom of this.  
  
Your student and colleague  
Doctor Daniel Baumgartner


	3. I Ask You This As a Friend

Dear Daniel

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I must admit, while I have been putting off reading your second letter, I still care for you. You were one of my brightest students. So when I ask of you what I am about to ask of you, please try not to see it as me trying to stifle you, or your process.

Daniel. Please. Stop looking into this. There are things you don't understand. Reasons I left Arkham. Reasons I can't explain. You are going down a dark path, and I need you to trust me.

I will not come to Arkham. I will not explain this further. What happened to Mr. Gibbs and what is currently happening to Mr. Bartram is out of your hands. You can't do anything else. Leave it, Daniel. For your own sake. If you do not, I will have to cut any contact with you. I will not get wrapped up in this again.

Move out of Arkham. Go somewhere else. Start a family. Just stop. That's all I ask.

Your friend,  
Lorrin


End file.
